


One-Word Prompts

by strangestorys



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [10]
Category: A Royal Affair (2012), Ella Enchanted (2004), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Blow Jobs, Breakfast, Cats, Crack, Drunk Will, Face-Sitting, First Kiss, Fluff, Food, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mpreg, Murder Husbands, Omega Hannibal, Prompt Fic, Rimming, Tumblr Prompt, cajun will, hannibal is a big dumb baby, smooches, will loves every dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 8,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangestorys/pseuds/strangestorys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ongoing series of prompts from Tumblr. Mostly ridiculous and fluffy Hannigram headcanons, with a tiny amount of angst. One chapter each of A/B/O and Charhann, clearly labelled for those who are/n't interested in that kind of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embarrassed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [nightliferogue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightliferogue).

**Times Hannibal felt embarrassed around Will:**

  * The time he accidentally used cilantro instead of parsley in his summer pesto. Will not only didn’t notice, but loved it so much he asked for seconds.
  * The time he thought he was so clever for keeping his diary in French, forgetting that Will was fluent until the day he asked if Hannibal *really* thought his ass looked and tasted like _une pêche mûre d’été_ (a ripe summer peach).
  * The time he tried to color coordinate their ties for an event, but misspelled “crimson” so badly in his e-mail to the tailor that the computer autocorrected it to “chartreuse.” They _definitely_ made a statement at that gala.
  * The time Will found his very secret (and very dogeared) collection of Dan Brown paperbacks.



**Times Will felt embarrassed around Hannibal:**

  * The time he forgot to pack his swimsuit for their beach vacation, and Hannibal had _thoughtfully_ planned ahead and brought an extra for him. A very very tiny and very very revealing extra.
  * The time he forgot to clear the browser history after borrowing Hannibal’s tablet, only to have Hannibal scoot up behind him in bed later and whisper in his ear, “If you’d wanted tips on how to pleasure a man, you could have just asked.”
  * The time Hannibal asked him to make his favorite traditional dish for their Thanksgiving dinner, and the only thing he could think of was sweet potato casserole covered in marshmallows. Hannibal secretly looks forward to it every year.
  * The time tried to take Hannibal on a fishing trip, but forgot to put gas in the boat and got them stranded in the Chesapeake Bay until a game warden happened to pass by a few hours (and a couple of unfortunate sunburns) later.




	2. Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [nightliferogue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightliferogue).

  * The first time the Will sees the little white cat, she’s creeping around the side of their old barn in pursuit of a pigeon that’s easily twice her size. He shakes his head and laughs a little, muttering a quiet “good luck with that” under his breath.
  * The next time he sees her, he and Hannibal are sitting in their backyard garden, enjoying the late summer sun and eating a dinner of tapenade, tomatoes, goat cheese, and crusty fresh bread. The cat walks straight up to them and drops the pigeon right at their feet, looking up with big green eyes that seem to say “you’re welcome.”
  * The third time he sees her, she’s eating delicately from a porcelain plate of raw, red tuna placed just outside the back doorway. When he comes back home after his daily run, he sees Hannibal leaning down to retrieve the empty plate. Neither of them say anything about it.
  * The fourth time, he’s heading out to the barn to find the lawn mower, when he sees Hannibal sitting in his usual seat on the patio reading, the cat curled up in his lap, kneading gently on his thigh. Will just keeps walking, stifling a laugh.
  * After the cat, whom Hannibal names Diana, becomes part of their new life, Will notices a slight change in Hannibal’s demeanor, an increased softness, an easier smile. Diana, prickly and prim and predatory as she is, just makes him _happy_ , and who is Will to deny him that?
  * Hannibal goes out of his way to buy the best sashimi-grade fish for Diana and always serves it raw and perfectly sliced. One time Will asks him why he never comes up with elaborate recipes for her, and Hannibal fixes him with an exasperated stare and replies, “She’s a cat, Will,” as though this explains everything.
  * Hannibal buys her a handsome, hand-tooled leather collar for Christmas; Will buys her a laser pointer. They spend the rest of the night watching her chase it up the wall, both in tears from laughing so hard.  
 




	3. New Orleans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from bayobayo, who asked for "Louisiana," "French," or "Louisiana French."

Several years into their life together after the fall, Will takes Hannibal on vacation in New Orleans:

  * Hannibal is completely enamored, of course, with seeing the place where Will spent his formative years. One night, they get a little tipsy on milk punch on the balcony of a hotel bar, and he begins drawing long and increasingly absurd comparisons between his youth in Florence and Will’s youth here, where all the cultures and ghosts of the Americas meld. Will tunes him out after several minutes, but enjoys watching the sensual glow of the streetlights on his lips as they form around the words.
  * Hannibal takes to Sazeracs, ordering one at the beginning of every meal, and insisting that Will select the bourbon for him. He loves encouraging his boy’s palate, experiencing what Will would choose for himself, tasting Will through the bitter anise and tart lemon. Will enjoys pulling him to the men’s room hallway between courses and getting his own taste.
  * They sit on the sidewalks of the French Quarter, listening to makeshift jazz bands in the street, collectives of strangers who come together to create a unified melody. Will explains the history of music in this part of the world, and Hannibal is rapt with attention, studying their faces, their fingers, their mouths, his mind ticking away creating spaces for all this new knowledge.
  * Will drives them out of the city and into the bayous, where they buy a small old motorboat with an envelope of cash. He takes Hannibal up the winding waterways and into the Atchafalaya, skimming through the towering bald cypress trees. They park for a while in the basin, absorbing the ghostly silence, pierced by bird calls and the occasional faraway splash. Will points out a floating alligator, its single open eye the only thing distinguishing it from a log. This sets Hannibal off on a tangent about predators and prey, at which point Will decides they’ve had enough nature for one day and turns the boat back around.
  * On the way back to the dock, they stop at a small shack at a makeshift pier for lunch. The handpainted sign outside reads CATFISH - GULF SHRIMP - GATOR. Will speaks to the woman behind the counter in fluent Cajun, both of them laughing at the face Hannibal makes as he tries to understand the broken French. When Will comes to the table, he has a large mixed basket for them to share, full of freshly caught seafood fried in cornmeal, with hush puppies and red beans on the side. It’s greasy and wonderful, and Will decides he’s never seen anything better than Hannibal eating with his hands and wiping them off with paper napkins.
  * In the mornings, Will takes Hannibal to the French Quarter for chicory coffee and fresh, hot beignets. Hannibal never fails to end up with powdered sugar all over his nose, and Will never fails to laugh at him for it before kissing it off.
  * They go on long walks through the above-ground cemeteries, reading the names and final wishes of people long gone. Hannibal stops often to touch and admire the statuaries, and to wonder aloud about the lives of the people who chose them. Will jokes that he’d shudder to think what Hannibal would choose for their joint gravesite, and Hannibal gets an odd, far-away look in his eyes before dragging him close and kissing him in a way that’s _much_ too obscene for a churchyard.




	4. Omega Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [t_w_a_m_p](http://t-w-a-m-p.tumblr.com), who loves to sin.

  * Omega Hannibal is incredibly secure in his status, refusing to mask his scent, even when he’s nearing heat. He loves the power of controlling exactly what people know about him, almost as much as he loves how much _talk_ he generates in the society crowd.
  * Hannibal is demisexual (fight me), and though he could have his pick of young, fit society alphas to help him through his heats, he prefers his own extensive collection of toys.
  * …until he meets a cranky, curly-haired twink of an alpha who smells almost unbearably like wet dog, and it’s suddenly like his body can’t produce slick fast enough.
  * The day after he meets Will, he finds himself browsing the baby section of Amazon with no idea how he got there.
  * Within a month of meeting Will, he’s ruined every pair of underwear he owned and had to replace it all. Twice.
  * The first time he spends a heat with Will, he comes so hard he gets a charley horse in his leg, and they have to take a break to massage it out.
  * About four months into their first pregnancy, he has a small breakdown when he realizes he can’t get his tailored shirts buttoned all the way around his middle anymore. Will comes into the bedroom to find him staring at a messy pile of shirts and waistcoats on the ground, biting anxiously at his thumbnail. He kneels in front of him and lifts up the loose red sweater he’s wearing, kissing his belly softly before getting him on his hands and knees and rimming the insecurity right out of him.
  * Pregnant Hannibal has the cutest, softest, roundest face.
  * Pregnant. Hannibal. Loves. Marshmallows.
  * For the twins’ first birthday, Hannibal buys them each a golden retriever puppy, respectively named Castor and Pollux. These prove to be difficult names for one-year-olds to pronounce, and they end up answering to _Cat_ and _Pox_ , to Will’s great amusement.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These headcanons finally made their way into a longer fic, [Resurrection Fern](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8101459/chapters/18565249).


	5. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anonymous.

**One Time Will Had to Apologize to Hannibal, and How He Did It:**

Will once bought a jar of peanut butter to use for dog treats, and put the rest in a batch of peanut butter brownies, deciding they could both do with a little comfort food. After dinner, he brought the dessert out with glasses of cold milk, digging into his own and rolling his eyes a little when Hannibal put his down after only one bite.

Before he could stop himself, Will started on a tangent about how Hannibal could at least give his food a _chance_ for once:

“…even though it’s not imported figs, it’s still _good_ , Hannibal. Just _try it_. Most people eat things like this all the time, I _grew up_ on this stuff, my dad would make us brownies every… Hannibal? Hannibal? Are you… are you ok?”

Hannibal, meanwhile, was clutching at his swollen throat and turning steadily more blue in the face, struggling not to roll his own eyes at Will’s obliviousness.

“Shit… you’re not ok. Are you… are you allergic to something, Hannibal? It can’t be the chocolate, I’ve seen you eat chocolate before. Oh god… it’s the peanuts. Is it the peanuts? It’s the peanuts. Shit. What do we… do you have a… do you have one of those medicine things?”

Hannibal, somehow still the adult in the room, even as his oxygen supply slowly dwindled, began pointing determinedly at the kitchen cabinet.

“OH shit ok, hold on, I got it, I got it, I’m going, I’m going! Hold on, don’t go anywhere, I’ll fix it!”

One epinephrine injection for Hannibal (“You mean I get to _stab you_???”), and two brownies for Will (“I need to stabilize my blood sugar after all of that, ok?”) later, Will got them both into bed and under the covers. He spooned up behind Hannibal and held on tight.

“I’m so sorry Hannibal. I wish you would have told me.”

“I honestly never thought to. It’s not an ingredient I’d ever use, though I failed to take into account that you probably would.”

“Well, yeah… I won’t be using it any more, in any case.”

After a moment of silence, Will had a thought. “Wait… are you saying that for all those years, the FBI could have taken the Chesapeake Ripper down with a _peanut butter sandwich_ , if only they’d known?”

Hannibal just laughed and rubbed Will’s arm where it lay around his middle. “There are some secrets I’d hoped to take to my grave, Will.”

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Make me your dad’s brownie recipe again, Will. I’d love nothing more than to try it, to know that part of you. Just, promise to leave the peanuts out this time.”

“Of course. You’ll love it.” Will hugged onto him tighter, and they both drifted to sleep, equally exhausted by the day’s excitement.

 

* * *

**One Time Hannibal Had to Apologize to Will, and How He Did It:**

Hannibal, during the weekly laundry duties he had insisted on taking (“I have a much greater appreciation for the necessity of fabric starch than you, Will.”), once accidentally shrunk Will’s favorite flannel shirt. The shirt was a wide-checked red pattern, with dark green running through it, perfectly soft from years of washing. To Hannibal’s chagrin, Will wore the shapeless thing at least once a week for yardwork and lounging around the house, and had often expressed frustration that he didn’t have seven of them to wear daily.

Hannibal felt a crimson flush creeping up his neck. There was no way he could admit to his mistake and still maintain his pride in his laundry skills; nor was there any scenario he could imagine where Will would take this news well.

Just then, as Hannibal stood deep in thought, Will came in from his daily jog, passing through the laundry room on the way to the house. Hannibal quickly hid the shirt behind his back in a way he hoped was subtle.

“Did you have a good run, Will?”

“Sure, it was fine. Noticed someone new moved into the corner house, we might want to think about… is something wrong, Hannibal?”

“No, no of course not. Just thinking about how I need to buy more detergent at the grocery store this week.”

“…if you say so. Just don’t get that really starchy kind again.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Will just rolled his eyes and leaned in for a quick kiss, which Hannibal granted, without taking his hands from the shrunken shirt behind his back. Will pulled back and eyed him up and down suspiciously.

“I’m going for a shower. Don’t think too hard about that detergent.”

“Don’t worry, Will. I’ve got it under control.”

Will left to go into the house, and Hannibal sighed out a big breath. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He shoved the shirt behind the laundry hamper and grabbed the car keys off the hook, heading out to the car.

When Will came back downstairs, towelling at his damp hair, he found Hannibal in the kitchen, about 20 flannel shirts of all colors sitting on the table in front of him. Greens and tans and greys, plaids and neutrals, all sorts, and all of the exact cut and fit as his favorite red one. He looked over them all suspiciously, tentatively pleased, but knowing there was more going on here than he could see.

“…Hannibal.”

“I thought that since you enjoy your old shirt so much, you might enjoy having a few more.”

“Hannibal, what did you do?”

“Am I not allowed to get you a gift, Will? As unshapely and tasteless as these are, I know you love them and feel comfortable in them. I love to know that you’re comfortable, that’s all.”

“That’s… nice of you?”

“You’re welcome, Will.”

“I never said… wait. Where’s my red shirt? Hannibal. _What did you do?_ ”

“I… now, before I say anything, remember Will, you have many more shirts than you did before to choose from. But… I may have shrunk yours in the wash… and, as becoming as you would look in a shirt that small, I knew you wouldn’t be comfortable wearing it in your daily activities. I’m… I’m sorry, Will.”

“Holy shit. You shrunk a cotton shirt in the wash, something every single person on this earth has done, and you reacted by buying out the L.L. Bean outlet??”

“I didn’t buy them _all_ out, Will, only the size mediums.”

Will sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come here.”

Hannibal stood hesitantly and walked over. Will wrapped him up in a big hug and laughed. “What am I going to do with you?”

Hannibal finally loosed up and hugged him back. “I guess I did overreact a little. I just… I didn’t want to see you unhappy.”

“It’s fine, Hannibal. Though now _you’re_ the one who has to suffer through a biweekly flannel rotation.”

Hannibal finally laughed. “A fitting punishment indeed.”


	6. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anonymous.

**Things Hannibal Regrets:**

  * Giving Will his Amazon Prime password
  * The whole cutting-Will’s-head-open incident
  * Wearing Burberry slacks the first time Will took him wade fishing
  * Accidentally picking up the double-crème instead of the triple-crème brie at the market
  * Coming _way_ too soon the first time Will took him in his mouth
  * This sweater:



  * Letting Will help with the interior design of their cabin
  * Forgetting to tell Will not to use metal on the non-stick pans
  * Most of the encephalitis stuff
  * Not grabbing his comfy prison sneakers before Will pushed him off the cliff



**Things Will Regrets:**

  * Giving Hannibal his Netflix password
  * Not buying an extra bag of dog food when it was on sale last week
  * Taking so long to warm up to the idea of Hannibal rimming him
  * Taking so long to warm up to the idea of sitting on Hannibal’s face
  * Taking so long to warm up to the idea of rimming _Hannibal_
  * Taking so long to warm up to the idea of Hannibal sitting on _his_ face
  * Spending all that time using a hot glue gun to make a firefly murder tableau in Lithuania when he could have been rimming Hannibal in Florence
  * Not going back to pick up Winston before he and Hannibal had to flee the States
  * Accidentally buying extra-pulp orange juice at the store
  * That second piece of pie at dinner




	7. Little Charhann Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [daughterofthemurderhusbands](http://daughterofthemurderhusbands.tumblr.com/).

  * Johann sitting on the floor reading Rousseau aloud while Charmont sits behind him and braids his hair, trying to pay attention
  * Char insisting on sharing a horse to go on a picnic one afternoon, and Johann suffering silently as Char’s plush ass bounces against him the entire way
  * Char laying his head on Johann’s belly as they lay on their backs to nap in the grass after lunch
  * Char trying to keep up with Johann at sword fighting, drinking games, and chess. Johann letting him win more often than not.
  * Locking eyes while Char is being honored at some boring ceremony, Johann watching from the audience, the slight smile on his lips hinting at his much-more-interesting plans for later that evening
  * Char getting impatient after the ceremony and dragging Johann off to the servant’s quarters to make out before the champagne is even served at the reception
  * Char ravaging Johann so badly that Johann has to spend five minutes in front of the mirror to redo his hair tie before he can rejoin the party
  * Johann painstakingly adoring every part of Char’s body, using his medical knowledge to describe it in detail as he goes. By the time he begins listing the many fascia and muscle bodies of the perineum, Char is squirming and sweating and trying his best to just shove Johann’s face into those fascia to shut him up.




	8. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [nightliferogue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightliferogue).

**What Will Learned About Love After the Fall:**

  * Love means having someone to hug you tight enough to crush your bones, when you wake up from a dream and forget which world is the real one
  * Love means the weird birthmark on your thigh you’ve always tried to hide is now the sacred site of sacrifice and pilgrimage
  * Love means all your towels are now mysteriously cleaned and folded after you used them to wash the dogs yesterday
  * Love means napping on the couch and waking up covered in a blanket
  * Love means planning ahead and bringing a book with you when visit the wine shop together, because you know the conversation with the sommelier will take at least 37 minutes, and at most 74 minutes, but usually somewhere in between
  * Love means letting half your dogs answer to the unpronounceable names of Greek demigods and Renaissance poets
  * Love is a gentle thumb running over the back of your hand when you sit on the porch in the evening
  * Love means the silence is never truly silent anymore, and the world is better for it



**What Hannibal Learned About Love After the Fall:**

  * Love doesn’t take away your locked doors, but it does mean having a hand to hold when you enter them
  * Love means the echoes of your footsteps in the halls of your mind have been replaced with music
  * Love means sometimes having to buy canned tomato soup and processed cheese slices, because it’s apparently the only thing that will cure the flu
  * Love means sleeping deeply and without fear
  * Love means listening to the same Tom Waits album in someone’s car so many times you find yourself writing the words in your journal without meaning to
  * Love can’t bring her back, but it can bring you back
  * Love means buying stock in L.L. Bean to recoup some of the money you spend on personalized embroidered dog beds
  * Love isn’t as easy as breathing; it’s easier




	9. Waffle House AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [Pangaea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangaea/pseuds/Pangaea), who asked for Breakfast Kink, the best of all kinks :D
> 
> (takes place in Season 4 where Murder Husbands are living together in a remote mountain cabin somewhere in middle America)

  * Will, tired of being cooped up in the house with Hannibal all the time, convinces him that they should get into town and make friendly with the locals by frequenting the local Waffle House. What he doesn’t tell Hannibal is that he mostly just misses hash browns, and Hannibal, for all his skill in the kitchen, just doesn’t have the right kind of griddle to get them crispy enough.
  * Hannibal is, understandably, resistant to the idea, but agrees to the principle that being “friendly diner regulars” is a much better cover identity than being “the weird reclusive couple on the end of the block with way too many exotic antlers in their living room.”
  * The first time they go, Will can’t get him to eat much more than toast, though he does at least try a bite of everything on both their plates.
  * Hannibal’s chief complaints:


  1. That’s not coffee.
  2. Those aren’t waffles.
  3. Those are _definitely_ not eggs.
  4. Has the person who smoked this bacon even heard of hardwoods?
  5. How did someone even bend this fork this way, and why do they still keep it in rotation?
  6. How can you even taste those potatoes under all that ketchup, Will?
  7. What’s this sticky stuff on my sleeve and how did it get there?
  8. Grits, Will? _Grits_?


  * …and Will’s responses:


  1. No, and I could probably run my car on this if I tried.
  2. This is North Carolina, not Belgium.
  3. How could you tell, did you watch her when she poured them out of the carton right in front of us?
  4.  …
  5. Hannibal, what happens at a Waffle House at midnight _stays_ at a Waffle House. The fork still works, doesn’t it?
  6. Why would I want to?
  7. *poorly stifled laughter*
  8. Less a food item in their own right than a receptacle for butter. Add a few more pats, you’ll like it, I promise.


  * They keep going, weekly, and then semiweekly, and then finally daily, and they do make some new friends. They learn a lot more about local high school sports scores than they ever thought possible.
  * Will is also pleased to discover that getting out of the house more often and actually talking to other people is fantastic for their relationship, if only because it gives them something to gossip about together later. (“Can you _believe_ Joann is finally divorcing that asshole? Good for her.” “Maybe she’ll send us his forwarding address and we can pay him a visit for her sometime.” “ _Hannibal_.”)
  * Hannibal does eventually develop a taste for the grits (and the biscuits and gravy, though he still claims that he’s just ordering it to try and figure out the recipe and make improvements. Will has yet to see any of these gravy experiments.).
  * Will just about has a stroke the day he hears Hannibal order himself scattered and covered hashbrowns.




	10. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [nightliferogue.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightliferogue)

**Things Hannibal has had to accept about Will:**

  * Will actively makes time to watch _This Old House_ on Saturdays.
  * Will really prefers not to have his ass lightly squeezed at the farmer’s market, even if they’re behind the stand of summer peaches and no one is paying attention.
  * Will really really likes Toaster Strudels and probably always will. He _does_ , however, always let Hannibal use the icing packet to write obscene and/or way-too-deep-for-7-AM messages for him.
  * Will is a faster swimmer than Hannibal is.
  * Motor oil smell.
  * Will passive-aggressively reverts to looking at Hannibal through the rim of his glasses after they’ve had a fight, mostly because he knows how much Hannibal loves his eye contact. He always gets over it in a few hours.
  * Will will never fully believe that he is lovable, no matter how many times Hannibal gently pushes his hair back from his eyes, or runs him a warm bath, or cries when they fuck. Hannibal will never stop trying to convince him.



**Things Will has had to accept about Hannibal:**

  * The rows of neatly balled socks and neatly folded pocket squares and neatly arranged anal plugs, for various, and often very specific, occasions.
  * The trashy tabloid obsession that Hannibal thinks Will doesn’t know about.
  * Meals consisting of nine very small courses instead of three normal-person courses.
  * Will constantly feels like he’s being watched, and he knows it’s because Hannibal is staring at his ass whenever possible.
  * Ascots.
  * How often they have to stop mid-fuck for Hannibal to cry a little.
  * He. Has. To. Smell. Everything.
  * Hannibal will never fully believe that he is safe, no matter how many times Will sleeps with his full weight pressed into him, or pours him coffee in the morning, or changes the tires on his car. Will will never stop trying to convince him.




	11. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anonymous.

**How Hannibal planned to propose to Will:**

  * Driving Will to the lake for a romantic afternoon, with champagne and a picnic spread of hors d'oeuvres to appeal to both their tastes.
  * Hands bumping into each other when they both go for the olive tray at once, followed by bashful laughter.
  * Laying back in the grass and pointing out shapes in the clouds.
  * Probably holding hands???
  * _At least_ holding pinkies.
  * Lingering glances.
  * Perfectly fitted white linen shirts and casual slacks: khaki for Hannibal, grey for Will.
  * Soft breezes blowing Will’s curls _just so_ over his eyes.
  * Watching the sunset explode over the water in pinks and purples and blurred vermilions.
  * Getting down on one knee with the sun at its crest of colors, and expounding on the beauty of their love, in metered verse, in several languages, with historic and literary allusions (he’d written out flashcards and studied them for _weeks_ without Will noticing).
  * Will, emerald-green eyes brimming with tears, struck speechless, yelling YES and holding out his hand for the ring (a simple platinum band, anything more would be _gauche_ ).
  * …Probably tender love-making???
  * _At least_ a kiss.
  * Maybe with tongue.



**How things actually went:**

  * Getting stuck in traffic on the interstate, with the only radio station available the smooth sounds of classic country, _“just the way you remember it.”_
  * Realizing during the second hour of crawling down the highway that the hors d’oeuvres were probably going to go bad soon.
  * Will helpfully volunteering to take one for the team and eat the snacks before they could spoil.
  * Will preparing crackers with cheese for Hannibal and hand-feeding him over the center console.
  * Will helpfully volunteering to open and drink the champagne before it could go warm. Out of the bottle.
  * Will, now tipsy, trying to pass the champagne over to Hannibal and spilling it all over the driver’s side carpeting.
  * The traffic finally clearing up, only for the car to run out of gas.
  * Having to walk to the nearest gas station, a good half hour down the road, Will entirely plastered, Hannibal moderately hungry, wishing he’d partaken in more of the snacks in the car when he’d had the chance.
  * Hannibal trying to hold hands (or at least pinkies) with Will.
  * Will breaking his hold and drunkly grabbing at Hannibal’s ass every few steps.
  * Hannibal giving up on even _trying_ to save the perfectly fitted linen shirts and khakis.
  * A rainstorm breaking out and drenching them both.
  * Bickering.
  * So much bickering.
  * Just, an insane amount of bickering.
  * Finally getting all the way to the gas station and back, only for the sun to have already set behind them.
  * Fumbling around in the dark trying to find the gas cap and refill the car.
  * Crankiness turning to giddy exhaustion.
  * Giddy exhaustion turning into laughing so hard their sides both hurt, leaning against the side of the car for support, catching each other’s eyes with an easy joy.
  * Hannibal, still trying to catch his breath, tears rolling down his face from laughter, pulling the ring out of his pocket and handing it to Will wordlessly, eyebrows tilted in question.
  * Will, suddenly sober, studying it for a second before taking it from him and putting it on.
  * “What, no speech?”
  * “What is there to say?”
  * Sudden, desperate making out.
  * Fucking in the back seat.
  * With many, many kisses.
  * And _definitely_ tongue.
  * And at least one leg cramp.




	12. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anonymous.

**People Will has been jealous of:**

  * All of Hannibal’s tailors.
  * Whoever taught Hannibal to do that thing with his tongue.
  * …that’s it, really.
  * (We’re not even going to _mention_ Bedelia anymore, ok, Hannibal? It’s over. _It’s over._ )



**People Hannibal has been jealous of (in alphabetical order):**

  * Angus, the Great Dane who lives on the next block.
  * Bradley, the Beagle who always sits on the patio with his owner at their favorite cafe.
  * Chester, one of the Golden Retrievers next door.
  * Duchess, the Pomeranian two doors over.
  * Ernie, the Basset Hound across the street.
  * Fizz, a Jack Russell who bit Hannibal’s ankle one time (and who Will rewarded with a piece of beef jerky from his pocket).
  * Gretchen, a Greyhound they’ve seen at the farmer’s market at least twice (twice that Hannibal knows about, at least).
  * Harvey, the other Golden Retriever next door.
  * Iggy, the Puli who lived at the vineyard where they celebrated their anniversary.
  * Jezebel, a Miniature Pinscher they saw while on a walk one time.
  * Kip, one of the Corgis who lives at their favorite bed and breakfast.
  * Lady, a terrier mutt who peed on their mailbox one time.
  * Moll… _lllllllet’s just pretend this one didn’t happen._
  * Nina, a poodle who Will deliberately stopped to pet on the street while in the middle of an argument with Hannibal.
  * Otis, a Boston Terrier who Will found lost in the neighborhood and returned to its rightful owner ( _for once_ ).
  * Phoebe, an Airedale they saw in the window of the car next to them at a red light one time.
  * Quincy, an English Bulldog who stars in a TV commercial for a local furniture store.
  * Rusty, another Corgi who lives at their favorite bed and breakfast.
  * Snuffles, a Cockapoo owned by their greatest frenemies, Mark and Aaron, who co-own the Blue Ridge area’s most popular antique store (and who somehow have objectively awful taste in home decor). Going to dinner at their house is like stepping into a Pottery Barn catalogue from 1995, a fact that Hannibal never fails to harp on for the entire drive home (A floral wallpaper border, Will, really? _Really?_ ).
  * Thor, a Yellow Lab they always see at the park.
  * Ulysses, a German Shepherd in a service dog vest whom Will saw at the grocery store one time (and had to tuck his hands into his pockets to keep from petting).
  * Viv, a disagreeable Shih Tzu in the neighborhood whose affections Will has been trying to gain for months.
  * Winnie, a Catahoula who lives by the pier where Will goes fishing.
  * Xiuhcoatl, the Xoloitzcuintli who lives with the caretaker at their oceanside timeshare in the Yucatan.
  * Yancy, the third and final Corgi who lives at their favorite bed and breakfast (they really do need to find a new B&B).
  * Zip, the unidentifiable muddy brown mutt who followed them home one night and never left (and whom Hannibal secretly feeds extra treats when he thinks Will isn’t looking).




	13. Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anonymous.

**Things Will hates:**

  * The entire category of small birds that get passed off as a fancy version of chicken, but end up being much more complicated to eat (quail, Cornish game hens, pheasant, etc.).
  * Throw pillows that are too firm.
  * Bass Pro Shop (“It’s not a sporting goods store, it’s Redneck Disneyland.”).
  * School zones.
  * Astroturf.
  * Organic, high-end peanut butter cups.
  * Surprise raisins in any dessert.
  * The look Hannibal gets on his face when he can’t find anything acceptable to order on a restaurant menu.
  * Christmas presents that are ornately over-wrapped, making them way too complicated to open (“Hannibal, why?”).
  * Ironed sheets.
  * The homemade hot sauce that Hannibal keeps trying to pass off as Tabasco (“If it wasn’t made on Avery Island, then it’s not Tabasco. End of discussion.”)
  * The moment of fear when he wakes up to find Hannibal’s side of the bed empty (even though he knows he’s just gone to make breakfast).



**Things Hannibal hates:**

  * Hydrangeas.
  * I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter (as well as its generic counterparts: You’d Think It’s Butter, Could It Be Butter?, What! Not Butter!, Wow! I Totally Thought It Was Butter!, and the least-committal of them all: Is It Butter?).*
  * People who can’t figure out how to zipper merge on the highway.
  * Accidentally falling asleep on the couch while reading.
  * Will mowing the lawn when he’s not home (due to missing the view of Will’s ass in those little shorts he favors for yardwork).
  * Scented lotion.
  * Onions chopped too finely/not finely enough for any given recipe (this has driven him to write bad Yelp reviews under multiple usernames on more than one occasion.)
  * Any kitchen gadget that promises you “an easier poached egg.” (“Is there no respect for skill anymore, Will?”)
  * Unironed sheets.
  * When the online tracker says his Amazon package has been delivered, but it doesn’t actually show up until a few hours later.
  * Local news anchors.
  * The silent moods Will gets into sometimes on Sunday afternoons (even though he knows they won’t last long, and usually just lead to intense spooning at bedtime).



*These are all real and I’m obsessed with them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A footnote, for all those who asked about "hydrangeas": 
> 
> Hannibal had the flu for a whole week once and spent the whole time watching a Barefoot Contessa marathon on TV. He can’t even look at hydrangeas, colonial-style clapboard houses, or chicken salad sandwiches wrapped in brown paper anymore without feeling a little queasy.


	14. First Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from two Anons, who asked for "first kiss" and "unexpected."

**The _actual_ first kiss:**

Hannibal officially considers their first kiss after the fall an accident, the result of Will’s drug-addled haze while they healed from their injuries.

The both of them had spent hours and days and weeks holed up in a one-room lake cabin in the far reaches of New Hampshire, one of Hannibal’s for-emergencies-only properties. They were never apart, even during sleep, both needing to check the other’s breathing, heart rate, and pain level at regular intervals. Hannibal often found himself waking, still blurry from morphine, to Will wrapped octopus-tight around his torso, breathing slowly and steadily through flickering dreams.

One of those times, only about a week into their convalescence, Hannibal woke to Will’s lips pressed against his neck, his hot, humid breath warming Hannibal’s skin.

“Will?”

At his voice, Will half-opened his eyes and uttered a string of random syllables (though which Hannibal thought he heard the distinct sound of “nnnnnibal”), before moving up to kiss him sloppily, half-missing his mouth. Hannibal had been tempted to correct him and lean into the kiss, but knew that Will was deep into an opiod dream, and the kiss, while possibly what Will wanted on a subliminal level, was just as likely meant for someone else, and was hardly consensual, at any rate. (Hannibal really was never particularly good at discerning Will’s feelings for him, a fact that he’ll now readily admit.)

He pulled back with a sigh, rolled onto his other side, and went back to sleep, Will’s arms still wrapped around him from behind. To this day, he isn’t sure whether Will remembers this happening, and he’s promised himself never to bring it up.

**The first kiss that _counted_ :**

A few months later, both of them now comfortably, if confusingly, settled into a new life on the Newfoundland coast, Will came down the stairs, dressed only in a white tee shirt and boxers, blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good timing, breakfast is just now ready,” Hannibal greeted him as he set the table.

Will grunted, shuffling over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. He stopped short when he saw the plates Hannibal had prepared.

“You made… biscuits and gravy?”

“I thought something warm and comforting was in order, given the snowy winter we’ve endured.”

“I haven’t had this in years, it’s what my grandmother always served on Saturdays.”

A smile just reached the corners of Hannibal eyes. “I guessed that you’d enjoy this, given your Southern upbringing.”

“Have you ever even made biscuits before, Hannibal?”

Hannibal let out a small, nervous laugh and shook his head. “I have to admit, I found the texture quite difficult to get right. The butter is less forgiving than I’d anticipated.” As he spoke, he moved to stand in front of the trash can, hoping to subtly block Will’s view.

Will looked at him curiously. “Hannibal…exactly how many times have you tried this out?”

“Only three.”

“Is that right?”

Hannibal looked away, towards a nonexistent spot on the floor. “Only three, today.”

Will closed his eyes and shook his head indulgently. “Only three today. Do I even want to ask how many batches you went through and threw out _before_ today?”

“Probably not.”

“Come here.”

Hannibal hesitated, but walked towards Will, hands still wrung around his flour-covered dishtowel.

“I can’t believe you went through that effort just because you thought I _might_ enjoy this.”

“And do you?”

“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

With that, Will put a hand on Hannibal’s cheek and leaned up to kiss him, pulling away with a small hum before stepping away to take his seat at the table with a smile.

Hannibal followed him after a long, dazed second, blushing furiously through breakfast. Afterwards, while they washed the dishes together, he couldn’t help himself and turned to kiss Will again. Will broke away just long enough to murmur “ _fucking finally_ ,” before shoving his tongue obscenely into Hannibal’s mouth, making him forget all about having a tidy kitchen for the rest of the morning.


	15. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [tigsmulii](https://tigsmulii.tumblr.com/).

**Things Hannibal promised Will:**

  * “I’ll only be in the wine shop for 15 minutes, you can stay in the car if you want.”
  * “I’ll keep our Thanksgiving menu to 8 courses or fewer.”
  * “You can pick the Netflix tonight.”
  * “Of course I didn’t tell the neighbors we were married. Why, did they ask why you weren’t wearing a ring?”
  * “I do know my AppleID password, just give me a minute to think about it.”
  * “I’ll try not to stab you with a _linoleum_ knife again.”*
  * “That’s absolutely not the country club lifeguard in the shepherd’s pie. That’s not even an appropriate place to put a lifeguard, Will.”**
  * “Of course I didn’t get the idea for this pumpkin bisque from a _Chopped_ rerun.”



**Things Will promised Hannibal:**

  * “You’ll like this place, they serve at least one cheese that tastes like feet.”
  * “I won’t quote along with the entirety of _Die Hard_. This time.”
  * “Of course you’ll enjoy bar trivia, where else is actually knowing Latin not a reason to get picked on?”*
  * “I made big plans for our anniversary. Big big plans. At…the restaurant. The one you like. I definitely remembered to call them and get a reservation. I definitely remember the maitre d’s name. Of course I remember his name, he got us that nice wedding gift. You know, the nice one. It was shiny and… nice. Anyway, we definitely have a table there. At the restaurant. The one you like.”
  * “I love this cravat you got me for Christmas!”
  * “It’s definitely not too spicy for you, I only ordered a level 2.”
  * “No, no, that waistcoat doesn’t accentuate your belly too much. I can’t even tell it’s there.”
  * “I’ll stop after this dog.”



*these were actually true

**The shepherd’s pie was the golf caddy. The lifeguard ended up in the gumbo.


	16. Hair *(the angsty one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [-themadhatter-](http://-themadhatter-.tumblr.com/).

After the cliff, Will shaves his hair close to the scalp. He does it after the first week, staring alone at the motel bathroom mirror, eyes on the silver bloom of tarnish in the lower righthand corner. He can hear Hannibal shift on the scratchy polyester quilt in the next room, still too weak and fevered to stand on his own.

It’s nice, in a way, the privacy. Hannibal can’t follow him out of the bedroom, so he doesn’t, and since he doesn’t, he gives it up, resigned to let Will do as he may. Will could walk right out the motel door and keep on going down the highway and through the Appalachians, up and over, and seasons could turn cold and hot and cold again and he could walk all the way across the plains and the Rockies and the desert and into the sea on the other side, and still Hannibal would lay in this bed waiting for him to return.

But he doesn’t and he won’t and they both know he won’t.

And since he stays, he plays nurse: dresses and bathes and feeds Hannibal, supports his weight so he can sit up and drink, shuffles him to the bathroom. He sleeps next to him and checks his temperature, watches the tremble in his hand to adjust his pain medication. Treats him like bone china and wishes the whole while to shove his fist into his chest to squeeze at his heart.

It’s incredible.

It’s all he has, and it’s not enough and too much. And he’s not his own anymore, but nor is he Hannibal’s, and nor is Hannibal his or his own. They just are, together, in this room, and he can’t be Will. So he shaves his head. He feels the same.

When he comes back, Hannibal is blurry on the bed, eyes soft and unfocused. He doesn’t say anything. Will isn’t sure he really even notices, he’s so out of it. Will crawls into the bed next to him, laying on his back. Hannibal moves closer and wraps his arm around Will’s torso, resting his head now on Will’s chest, eyes closed, slowing his breathing to match. Will runs his hand through Hannibal’s soft hair, and Hannibal hums and holds him tighter, drifting off again. His skin feels so hot.

Will stares at the ceiling for an hour, two hours, willing sleep, hand still resting on Hannibal’s fevered head.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to a hand running softly over the unsoft shape of his scalp, the new sharp bristle there. Hannibal is watching him, clear-eyed for once. The fever must have broken overnight.

“You’re still Will,” he says softly, and Will just nods. Hannibal keeps petting him, and Will lets him, and he finally thinks he’s going to be okay. They’re going to be okay.


	17. Deosculate (To Kiss Affectionately)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Chronicopheliac.

**Times Will has kissed Hannibal breathless:**

  * Dog #1: Plato, a purebred Weimaraner puppy whom Will comes downstairs to find under the tree on Christmas morning, a red bow around her neck.
  * The time Hannibal makes chicken fried steak for Will’s birthday, complete with mashed potatoes and fried okra (and gravy all over everything).
  * The first time Hannibal takes Plato, of his own volition, on a trip to the dog park while Will is recovering from the flu. The kiss is so good Hannibal doesn’t even care when he comes down the flu himself two days later.
  * Dog #2: Biff, a three-legged Bull Terrier mix that Hannibal found on the side of the road in February and couldn’t bear to leave alone.
  * The time Hannibal surprised him with front-row tickets for the R.E.M. reunion tour.
  * Treading water while skinny-dipping off the coast of Mexico, for no other reason than just wanting to.
  * Dog #3: Alice, a sheepdog who just kind of appeared one day and never left (because Hannibal was not-so-secretly leaving food on the back porch for her).
  * All the times he’s woken up from a nightmare about the sea to hear Hannibal calmly shh-ing him, big hand rubbing firm circles on his back.
  * The time he came downstairs to find Hannibal making breakfast in Will’s flannel, with the buttons straining around his torso and a small peek of belly showing above his waistband.
  * When they go to bed a year to the day after the cliff, because he sometimes still can’t believe they’re here.



**Times Hannibal has kissed Will breathless:**

  * After The Backseat Rim Job Incident.
  * The time Will, while judging a blind taste test at the local county fair, correctly identified every single one of Hannibal’s pie entries by taste alone.
  * When Will agreed to let him be in charge of the flowers for their wedding (…and the music for their wedding, and the table linens for their wedding, and the invitations for their wedding, and…)
  * Honestly, there’s just a lot of wedding kissing going on, and neither of them is usually sure who started it.
  * The time Will got him a subscription to _Martha Stewart Living_ for Christmas, “so you can read it for the sheer pleasure of feeling superior.”
  * In a small, dingy twin bed in a hostel outside of Krakow, when their car broke down on a driving vacation across Europe.
  * The time Will heard a wolf on their property and stood outside the door watching and waiting, gun cocked, eyes wild, ready to defend their home.
  * The time Will actually remembered to buy the Camembert and not the Brie at the grocery.
  * The time they got snowed in and made hot cocoa, and Will laughed at him for getting whipped cream on his nose.
  * Almost every day right after breakfast, just because he can.




	18. Coffee Shop AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [Jhonni](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jhonni/works) ([lecteronthelam](http://lecteronthelam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr).

 

  * Will is a criminology professor teaching night classes at the local community college. He spends most of his mornings keeping up with the forensics literature and preparing lectures at the coffee shop at the end of his block.
  * He lowkey hates it because it’s entirely too pretentious and expensive, and the clientele is mostly twenty-something freelance graphic designers in ill-fitting knit beanies and grandpa shirts they bought at J. Crew (but want you to believe they bought at Goodwill). But it’s the closest one to his house and they make a turkey sandwich he really likes, so he deals with it.
  * Oh, and also there’s Hannibal. Who always comes in right at 11:30, in a perfectly-pressed, immaculately-fitted white shirt, and is less a “deal with it” situation and more a “reason to pay $5 for drip coffee” situation.
  * Hannibal owns a local high-end pastry shop who vends to cafes in the area, filling the demand for bergamot macarons, lavender scones, chamomile pound cake, and other things people convince themselves they want (when they actually just want a Tollhouse cookie). He mostly stays at the bakery, but has to fill in on delivery rounds when his assistant calls in sick.
  * On deliveries, he tries to get in and out as quickly as possible so he can hit all 20 cafes on the schedule and get back to his calm, clean, organized kitchen, where he has to listen to neither the banal chatter of the awkward first date crowd nor the toneless wail of whichever Wisconsin-based acoustic guitarist is making the rounds on Pandora that week.
  * Oh, and also there’s Will. Who is a fixture of his 11:30 delivery in Wolf Trap, and who appears determined, through his body language and choice of corner table, to make it clear that he is not a part of this crowd.
  * And Will, with his decidedly Eddie Bauer aesthetic and stack of crime literature, is _most definitely_ not a part of this crowd. There’s a keenness about Will that interests him: the hawkish way he observes other people, his legitimate interest in the work in front of him, his complete disinterest in whichever app has the coffee-shop tech crowd abuzz that week.
  * Hannibal finds himself, despite his best intentions, taking the delivery rounds more and more, “just for a chance to get some air,” and always taking his sweet time unloading the van in Wolf Trap.
  * For his part, Will always takes notice of people who walk through the door, immediately sizing them up: their hobbies, worries, interests, purposes. But when Hannibal comes in, he can’t get any kind of handle on him at all, and his mind is roaring with it, with the challenge. He starts looking forward to it, this new and different intruder in his daily routine.
  * After months of this (by which time Hannibal has completely fired his assistant and is just doing all the deliveries himself now), in which their only communication has been brief but definite eye contact, Hannibal orders himself a coffee and sits down at the table next to Will’s. All the hair on Will’s arm is standing up, and he’s not sure whether it’s in annoyance or excitement. _How dare this guy just decide to make a move-that-isn’t-a-move, how dare he sit there looking like a marble statue, pretending they haven’t been eye fucking for months now._
  * Will sits there for ten minutes trying to figure out what to do. Finally he just can’t take it anymore and opens his mouth to tell him off, but the only thing that comes out is, “If you’re going to stay for lunch, don’t order the chicken salad sandwich. They put way too much celery in it.”
  * Hannibal is instantly smitten, and he feels a little absurd about it, but he orders a turkey sandwich, moves his coffee to sit across from Will, and introduces himself.
  * Five years later, Will has finally reached tenure, and Hannibal has expanded his business to open his own storefront. They live together in a little house with a French press and an ever-growing family of stray dogs, second-hand criminology books, and pie pans, and they always have lunch at “their” coffee shop on their anniversary, eating turkey sandwiches and people-watching.



**Author's Note:**

> [One-Word Prompts](http://strangestorys.tumblr.com/tagged/one-word-prompts) on Tumblr, reblogs always appreciated! :D


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